


Very Final

by Minor Fandoms (HMSquared)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Character Death, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Resurrection, Sleep Deprivation, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/Minor%20Fandoms
Summary: Sam and Jack are convinced Cass is gone. Dean isn’t so sure. Post-15.18
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 107





	Very Final

**Author's Note:**

> Misha apparently said Cass' fate is "very final," which I find extremely suspect. Here's why:
> 
> 1\. Killed Off for Real is subverted and averted on a regular basis, so I'm already suspicious.
> 
> 2\. Cass is one of the show's main characters, and a breakout one at that. As much as I love the confession, that being his last appearance is a shitty way to go.
> 
> 3\. The finale is going to be two hours, and we have another episode before that. I can guarantee you Dean, Sam, and Jack won't spend that time forgetting about Cass.
> 
> 4\. Fans have wanted Destiel for 11 years. The cast and crew know this. I find it very hard to believe that they'd dig themselves a deeper hole.
> 
> 5\. The wording is weird. Saying something is "very final" is like saying, "Oh yes, this is totally final, I'm not being sarcastic."
> 
> 6\. And finally, I do not trust a word that comes out of Misha Collins' mouth right now. He has been known to troll before. Maybe I just want Cass back, but until the finale comes out, I'm not trusting him at all.

“Dean!” Sam wandered the halls of the bunker, Jack trailing close behind. The latter was hopeful they might find Dean alive, the former not so much.

“Sam, slow down,” Jack whispered. Sam spun around, tears in his eyes.

“I have tried his phone, his other phone, and his  _ other  _ other phone multiple times. So excuse me if I’m feeling a little hopeless.” Jack nodded, then his eyes figuratively lit up.

“What if you track his phone?” Gasping, Sam pulled out his phone and punched in Dean’s number. It was a long shot, but they had no other options.

A red dot appeared on the screen, pointing them to the trap room. Holding their breaths, they followed it.

The door was off its hinges. Drawing a knife, Sam charged inside.

“Dean?!” He rounded the corner and braked to a stop.

Dean was sitting against the wall, his phone face down on the floor. The older Winchester’s head was in his hands. Tiny, quiet sobs escaped him.

Jack stopped when he came upon this scene, his shoes squeaking on the floor. Putting his knife on a nearby shelf, Sam cautiously stepped forward.

Before he could say anything, Dean looked up. His eyes were puffy and filled with tears. Sam swallowed, waiting for his brother to speak.

“He loved me, Sammy… He loved me, and I never got to respond.” Another wave of tears washed over Dean. His head fell back into his hands.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked the question as quietly as he could. When his older brother didn’t respond, he turned to Jack. “Can you help me?”

“Sure.” Jack moved to help, then stopped. “Look.” Turning, Sam saw the handprint on Dean’s shoulder. He swallowed.

“Dean, I’m going to put my arm on your right side. Jack and I don’t want to touch the handprint, so you need to help us, okay?” The audible sobbing had stopped. From behind his hands, Dean nodded. Sam slowly inserted his arm under his brother’s right armpit and lifted.

Grunting, he pulled Dean to his feet. Jack grabbed a nearby swivel chair and wheeled it over. Nodding in appreciation, Sam set his brother down on it.

They wheeled Dean to his bedroom. By the time they got there, he was already passed out from exhaustion.

Darkness. Pain. Words of care and wisdom.

_ I love you. _

“Cass!” Dean bolted awake in tears. He was in bed, Jack sitting at the foot of it. The nephilim started.

“Dean!” Bolting up, he ran to the door. “Sam, he’s awake!” Jack turned back to Dean, who was panting and blinking. A few moments later, Sam himself appeared.

“Dean…” And then he trailed off, because Dean was swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to stand up and stumbled. Sam moved to catch him.

“I’m good, Sammy.”

“Dean, you are not--” Dean wound back and smacked him, hard. A tiny gasp escaped Jack. Sam motioned for him to get out of the way. They let the oldest Winchester leave without a word.

Dean made himself a pot of coffee and began perusing the library. Every book he could find on resurrections, angels, and the Empty were yanked down onto the table. The oldest Winchester poured through every one, reading cover to cover. He didn’t skim, not with Cass at stake.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be nothing but dead ends. Dean swore under his breath, squeezing his coffee mug until it nearly shattered.

Sam and Jack didn’t even try to approach. They stayed at the other end of the bunker, trying to figure out if anyone else was left. All and all, not a good afternoon in the bunker.

“Shit!” On his way from the bathroom, Sam stopped. Poking his head into the library, he found Dean surrounded by books. He didn’t look happy.

“What’s the matter?”

“I have searched every book in this freaking library, and I can’t find a damn thing.” Dean slammed his fist into the table. Sam jumped at the thud.

“Dean, maybe you need to--”

“NO! Don’t tell me to stop, because I can’t!” Dean was nearly in tears. His brother swallowed.

“Okay. Then maybe…” Sam thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Maybe you just need some sleep. I’ll look over everything again.” Dean’s face softened.

“Thanks.” He stumbled away.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open. He was in a field, the sky a nauseating white. Squinting, he saw a figure up ahead.

“Cass?!” The figure turned around. The sunlight made it a silhouette. Dean wanted to run toward it, wanted to cherish it, but didn’t. He couldn’t let the bubble pop.

“Dean, listen to me very carefully.” Cass’ voice. The goddamn thing had Cass’ voice. “I’m working to get out of here, but I need your help.”

The grass between them caught fire. A sigil Dean had never seen before burned, smoke filling the air. He studied it intently until the design was seared into the back of his eyes.

The bubble was beginning to pop. Panic filled him.

“Cass!” The figure turned away.

Dean ran back to the trap room. His eyes glittered, the sigil a fiery image in his pupils.

Grabbing Jack’s knife off the shelf, he cut his hand open. Then Dean carved the sigil into the wall, going over it twice for good measure. His palm stung, but he didn’t care. A small price to pay for getting Cass back.

Sam had given him a new lighter the Christmas before. Now, Dean opened it and tossed the box toward the wall. The sigil caught fire, his blood burning brightly. Stepping back, he waited.

Sounds filled the room, reminding him of the confession. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed back his tears.

The wall split open with a loud bang. Something flew forward and crashed into the chair. Beyond the void, the Shadow was screaming bloody murder. Dean pinched his palm to stop the bleeding. After a moment, the sigil extinguished and evaporated completely.

He tossed the chair aside, sweating buckets. After a moment, the bundle looked up.

It was Cass. He was frightened and confused, but all of that went away when he saw Dean.

“Dean?”

“Cass.” Dean swallowed as the angel got to his feet.

“How long was I gone for?”

“That doesn’t matter.” And then Cass was pulled into Dean’s arms for a kiss.


End file.
